Dwalves cannot fare by day unshielded, for Leuada’s light turns their kind to stone, but they can fare above-ground when wearing a day-shroud. Day-shrouds come in many shapes, but are most often black and white and bestrewn with cloth-strips which have spells sewn into them. This day-shroud has shadowed holes at the mouth and under the chin, through which the Dwalf within can see out. The helm is wicker, clad in clay to fill the holes in the woven hazel rods. The cloth-strips bear spiked rune rows, some hanging like fangs, some standing like stakes and some meeting to make shafts. These runes call the mind to the deep hollows where the Dwalves dwell. These spell-laden strips stave off rips and keep the shroud about the Dwalf in harsh weather.
The ghostly Dwalves do not eat worldly foods of flesh and wort. They feed on unworldly and shapeless things, such as souls and the worship given to them. The Dwalf here is stealing the life from a hapless wanderer. The wanderer was helpless to ward off so mighty an elder being. When their eyes met, the Dwalf fed on his fear straight away. The man could barely lift his spear to cast it before he stumbled and fell on his back, too weak to bear his own weight.